


Outnumbered And Unafraid

by Go0se



Category: The Mountain Goats (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Epic Friendship, Gen, In League With Dragons (Album), Inspired by Music, Magic-Users, POV First Person Plural, Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-16 18:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18697015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go0se/pseuds/Go0se
Summary: You, who say you are curious by nature, who say you are no glutton for bloodshed despite everything you have done, ask for our story of how we arrived at this place.





	Outnumbered And Unafraid

**Author's Note:**

> You know how you see a concert of one of your favourite bands without having heard their newest album yet because it dropped while you were on a plane and you just didn't have time, but you really like all of the songs you don't recognize anyway, especially one that's all gently-sung narative with a steely center and the instrumentation rattles in your chest, and then an idea forms around it that rattles in your brain even more than a week later? You know how that happens sometimes
> 
> In addition to thanks and endless respect to the Goats, this is dedicated to everyone at the recent show in Boston. Y'all are good people.  
> Title taken, and the whole story extrapolated from, '[Clemency For The Wizard King'](https://youtu.be/3OsEN6YMPrQ).
> 
> Thank you.  
> -

There are seven of us: siblings of sword and dagger. The curse of the glade had settled protectively around us at dawn, turning us to stone as the sun rose, and by the time we’d awoke at dusk he had been taken.

Aria was the first to know. She returned from the castle too soon that night, her face dark with news. The rest of us rose as one even before she spoke. Without pausing to complete our nightly training, we searched the castle, the grounds and the forest beyond it.

It was a grim scene which we walked into as moonlight flooded through windows. Clerics, messengers, cleaners and guards slept in the castle; all were dead. Dogs and roosters lay on the ground with cut throats, all of the horses gone from the stables either by thievery or simple panicking stampede. Blood pooled along the grass of the gardens, into the cobblestones of the walking paths.  
But of clues, nothing was there to be found. The forests remained undisturbed except by occasional sharp winds blowing from the west.  
We did not despair. We could not despair. His Majesty’s very life, we now understood, was in danger. There was no time for fear or indecision.

 

We regrouped in our glade to reconnaitre. Our strength doesn’t lie in numbers, but we’re stronger together nonetheless. We shared, spoke, and considered.

We knew that there were three ways our Majesty could have been stolen from us: force, deception, or trickery. No harm had come to the castle itself, and no alarm had been raised in the town; so, it couldn’t have been force.  
His Majesty has domain over all forms of magic; he can see a threat to himself or his kingdom leagues away, and pull a plot out of someone’s heart like a weaver pulling thin thread. None can lie to him. Therefore, deception would be impossible.  
The quickness and brutality of the attack, the quiet with which it must have been carried out; we understood. His Majesty had been stolen from us under a guise of riddles and tricks. They are a difficult art to master, even for one so powerful and wise as him, and one mistake can unravel everything.

Few enough in these lands have the audacity to challenge the wizard king. The only obstacle was finding you.

We, who have spent so long gladly under his Majesty’s service and favour, have mastered many trades other than the way of the blade. Polunochnaya, our youngest, trained under the Kingdom’s Librarian for many years. Among other things she had learned the art of cataloguing histories. She knew of your past challenges to the throne. Great battles, she told us of, that had come down to a matter of wits and quickness of hand. Grudges that would take centuries to fade. If they faded at all.  
She opened the studying rooms for us and pointed to the maps that would lead us to you, and to his Majesty.

  
We travelled swiftly by night. It was a long journey, but not so daunting for us. No souls noticed us except the moon herself; a few sleepless wanderers; the occasional city watch; small, brave nocturnal animals. The lights bobbing far away in the fog in the swamps and the whistles in the forests did not tempt or confuse us.

 

After three nights we found your castle, shielded from the outside world by a sea of thick brambles and a magic that attempted to settle into our bones like slow slap trapping insects as we neared.  
It took no effect on us. We, who are singular in our focus and our dedication, who remember the face of our king as he smiled favouringly, who have long stood by him protectively as he has sat in his rightful place at one true throne which governs these lands.  
He is righteous in his voice, kind in his face, sure of his mind. Nothing may break our focus while he is in danger.

  
We, who move as one. We, who have trained long in the art of swordsmanship, of broadswords with wide cutting arcs, and delicate knives to slice between ribs or throw like a whisper across a room and nail a hand to a wall. We who take our strength not from numbers but who are stronger together nonetheless.  
Marion stepped ahead of the group as we arrived at the walls of the castle. The glass of a fine window shimmered and bent like water under her raised hand, opening a way for us all through one of the lower levels.

We could feel his Majesty’s magic in the air here. It guides us as though we can see it though the dark. It sparks and hums in our veins, a familiar song.  
Quick as shadows, we closed in, slipping past your guards and watchers. Not even disturbing the cats sleeping on the stairs.

 

The door of this chamber is marked with an unbroken chain of sigils which glowed like embers in the dark. We all unsheathed our blades in synch, with only the noise of a breeze over water.  
A moment where we all stood on watch, as Eodwulf worked, and the heavy door slid open just enough for us to slip inside.

 

We came before you then.

 

You were awake on your parody of a throne and staring into a bowl of clear water. Shocked to see us, though you overcame it quickly.

Or was that also a trick?  
Your guards poured in from all the shadows and held their javelins out to our throats.

As quickly as they moved, we circled together, backs close and shoulders proud as we held our blades readily. Ready to fight as we will, and die if we must.

 

However, your guards did not move in. You stood from your seat instead and stepped forward.  
You, who say you are curious by nature, who say you are no glutton for bloodshed despite everything you have done, asked us how we'd arrived here. With many assurances that his Majesty had not been harmed, only held under chains etched in runes that put him in a sustained, dreamless sleep; how _dare_ you. You spoke of how we had journeyed a far distance and did not need to leap directly into battle.  
You called for a staying of hands. For parler.

  
We, who exercise mercy as commanded, are not unreasonable in our own devices.  We agreed to tell you freely. The night is long, and we have no fear of you, your guards, or the spells which soak the air in this castle.  
I am the quickest with words, so I have spoken for us all. We can see by your expression you knew pieces already. Know this as well: the king is one of our own.

 

Now. Our tale is over. You will release his Majesty, or we will free him from this place by force.

 

What say you?


End file.
